


Know Better.

by lavenderhoneymndes



Series: That's the Way I Like It. [4]
Category: Chris Evans (actor) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Dom Drop, Dom/sub, Dom/sub Undertones, Domdrop, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Light Angst, Subdrop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 02:16:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28948785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavenderhoneymndes/pseuds/lavenderhoneymndes
Summary: After a scene with Chris, things just don't feel right.
Relationships: Chris Evans & You, Chris Evans (Actor) & Reader, Chris Evans (Actor)/Reader, Chris Evans/You
Series: That's the Way I Like It. [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2106636
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20





	Know Better.

You couldn’t stop crying, and you didn’t know why. Which only made everything worse. Last night, was amazing. You and Chris played, something that had become more regular lately which you were more than happy about, and you’d been having tons of fun. You loved being with him in that way, putting that sort of trust in him, and having him take care of you. Likewise, for Chris, he enjoyed the trust you put in him and having that little bit of control over something helped him relax from all the chaos that was the business with the bar.   
Last night you were fine, completely wrecked and sore, but content and had one of the best night's sleep you’d had in a long time. But you woke up this morning without the warmth of Chris’s chest against your cheek. And suddenly everything felt wrong. All of it. What you did the night before. What you let him do to you. What you did to him. None of it felt right. You stayed in bed for a while curled around yourself, silently letting tears fall. You didn’t know what you were feeling or why you were crying, but you knew there was only one thing that could make you feel better. You managed to pull yourself together for a moment, sitting up and taking your phone from your nightstand, going through your contacts, and finding Chris's name.   
You called five times. Excessive yes, and had you not felt an empty pit in your chest, you’d be embarrassed with how desperate it looked. Each call went directly to voicemail, he didn’t even send you a quick ‘call you in a sec’ text to let you know he at least got your calls. But you let it go, tried not to read into it. He was busy. Calling contractors, getting permits and licenses for the expansion of the bar. You knew that, and you were happy for him. He was finally going to have that great local bar that he’d always wanted. Besides, you couldn’t expect him to be near you every second of every day. You were never that girl anyway, but for some reason now, you needed him close. But he wasn’t there and even though logically you knew he didn’t hate you, you couldn’t stop yourself from feeling that way.   
You had just finished your third bout of crying, sitting curled up on his bed, watching but not paying attention to a show you had started up, in an attempt to distract yourself, when your phone finally rang. You didn't want to answer at first, you really didn't but you saw his name and the adorable picture of the two of you on the screen and rushed to answer.   
“Hey babe, I’m just now checking my phone. Is everything alright, you called me a ton?” His voice was light, you could hear the smile in his voice. For some reason, it didn’t help one bit. It just made it all worse. You don’t say anything, just hold your breath, trying to not let the tears fall from your eyes. You’d just finished crying you couldn't take another hour of it.   
“Chris…” you finally choke out. it’s all you can get out through a few hiccups. Your voice is shaky and small, there's nothing you can do to disguise it.   
“Baby?” he rushed voice a hint of urgency in his voice. With just the sound of his name, coming from your lips he knows what's happened. He knew and he hated that he knew.   
“Yeah?” you didn't sound like yourself, you sounded horse and small. You didn’t try to cover it up, you didn't have the energy too. You didn’t even feel like talking to him. How could he even want to talk to you after last night? Who would want someone who likes those things?   
He didn’t need any prompting. He knew what he needed to do, and he had to get to you as quick as he could.   
He finally fucked up. He knew he would eventually, it was his biggest fear with you and with what the two of you do and he’d finally done it.   
“I’ll be there as soon as I can, okay?” The words came out as even and calm as he could make them. He’d hoped it could maybe ground you in some way. He collected his jacket and keys as he spoke, not even giving Scott a passing ‘see ya’ as he left the bar. You needed him, and he couldn't see anything past that. But he couldn’t panic either. If he panicked then you’d panic and it would only make the whole situation worse. He’s already fucked up enough he couldn't do any more damage.  
The only good thing about living in that shoebox of an apartment was that it’s only a few blocks from the bar, and Chris's never been more grateful. He ran up the stairwell, bypassing the slow elevator, taking two steps at a time. When he reached the front door, he tried to even his breathing as best he could as he reached for the doorknob. When he walked into the apartment it was eerily quiet, the only noise was the faint talking from the TV in his room. He turned the corner into his tiny bedroom and his already fragile heart shattered with what he saw. It was you, bundled up under the covers, eyes almost swollen shut from the crying. He wonders how long you’d been crying before you’d finally decided to call him, but he doesn’t want to know the answer. Your cheeks were freshly dried, finally having a break from your crying but it didn’t last long as they began to fall again with the sight of your boyfriend standing there in the doorway. You quickly throw the covers over your head, hiding from him. You did call, but now you were embarrassed. You couldn’t let him see you like this. You were being silly, you were fine. Everything was fine, and you were just being an emotional dramatic girl.   
“Chris I’m sorry.” The words were muffled under the covers but he could still hear the pain in your voice, could still see your body shaking with every sob. “I don’t know why I called. I - I’m okay. I’m sorry.”   
He couldn’t cry, he needed to help you. To fix what he’d done, but his eyes watered at the sight of you. He quickly shimmied out of his jacket and shoes and made his way to the side of the bed making a move to pull the covers away from your face and bring you close to him.   
“NO!” You cried, pulling away the moment his hands made contact with you. You lowered the covers just enough for your swollen eyes could be seen. “Don’t touch me.”  
He jerked his hands away instantly, sitting back a little bit to give you space, even though it hurt to do so. The look in your eyes and the sound of your voice, he was never going to forget it. He got up from the bed and kneeled down on the side of it next to you hoping that maybe if you were at the same level you would feel better. It was a stupid idea but it was worth a shot.  
“Baby, what’s wrong?” He asked carefully to keep his voice even.   
He knew what was wrong. He shouldn't have left you this morning with anything. Not a kiss. Not a quick note letting you know he loved you, and how amazing last night was. Nothing. Last night had been one of the most intense scenes the two of you’ve ever done, and you were so exhausted afterward. He thought you needed the extra rest and didn’t have the heart to wake you this morning. Nor did he have the time to send you a quick text once he’d made it to the bar. Instead, he’d left you there, in his bed. Sore and alone.   
The thing that hurts the most, was that he knew better. He may not have had this talk with you, but he knew the risks. In the beginning stages of laying out limits and safewords, he made the choice of skipping the possibility of sub-drop. Partially because he was cocky enough to think he would never allow it to happen. That it could never happen on his watch. But also because he was scared you would be too scared of the possibility, and opt-out of everything all together. It was arrogant and selfish, and now he’s paying for it tenfold.   
“I’m sorry.” you hiccuped your way through those few words, hidden under the sheets and comforter that’d become your shield.  
“Sorry for what baby?” he had a feeling why you were saying the things you were saying, he’d done some research and read some stories. But he hoped maybe having you talk it out would help. Or maybe not? He had no clue.   
“I don’t know, I’m just - I don’t know what's wrong with me. Chris, I’m so sorry.” you knew you weren’t making any sense. You didn’t even know what you were saying. You didn’t understand why your thoughts were jumbled, or what exactly it was you were feeling. It was a strange concoction of guilt and shame. All you knew is that it was wrong. Everything Everything was just all wrong.   
“Honey, can you look at me?” All he gets is a few more sniffles from you and what looks like a weak shake of the head under the sheets. “Please baby. I need you to look at me, okay?” It’s a genuine plea. He’s as lost as you are, and he knows he shouldn’t be. He should know what to do, he should be able to fix you, but he doesn’t even know where to begin. The silence that falls over the two of you was deafening. But after a few moments, you slowly lift your head from under the sheets, looking up at him through your lashes and swollen eye. “Baby, you have nothing to be sorry for, you hear me?” He spoke slowly, putting emphasis on each word, trying to get you to hear him. But as he spoke the words you were already shaking your head.   
“Yes, I do Chris. I...something is wrong with me.”   
“No. No, honey nothing - nothing is wrong with you.” The mere thought of you thinking you were anything less than perfect made Chris's stomach churn.  
“Yes, there is. And you - I'm sorry you do what you do. Because you don't have to. If you don't want to do those things for me or if you're doing them just because I want them, then I don’t want it anymore.” You were on the verge of hyperventilating, as you rushed through the words unable to catch your breath.   
“Hey, hey breath okay, you’re fine.” He resisted the urge to reach out and touch you, to caress your face and rub soothing circles into your cheek with his thumb. Instead, he let out a few exaggerated breaths in the hops that you’d follow his lead, and it worked.   
“There’s nothing wrong with you. Or what we do. Nothing.” You didn’t make any sounds of affirmation or denial. You were completely lethargic and Chris didn’t know what else to do.  
“Is it okay if I touch you? Would that be okay?” You gave him a weak nod. Slowly he moved closer, bringing his forehead to your, letting his fingers stroke softly at the hairs at the nape of your neck, and thumbing away some of the tears on your cheeks. You kept muttering ‘Sorry’s’ and ‘I don't know’s' while Chris held you close. “Shhh… baby it’s okay.” he placed a long kiss on your forehead and with that, it was like the flood gates had opened and you started bawling all over again. Everything you’d been trying to hold back all afternoon spilled out and you couldn't seem to stop it. He pulled away just for a moment, pulling himself up onto the bed and bringing you into his chest. “I got you, love. Your okay, I got you, yeah? Everything is fine.” As he spoke the words he willed himself to believe them as well. He held you tight to his chest, almost worried he was hurting you, but you squeezed him back just as hard. He placed kisses in your hair and rubbed circles on your back and up your arms. Anything to get you to stop crying. To get you to stop hurting. But he couldn't do it.   
“I’m scared Chris. I don't know what - I don't know why?”  
“Shhh...baby I know it's okay. You don’t need to be I'm right here. I’m not going anywhere.”   
He’s not sure how long the two of you played there, holding each other while you cried. Half an hour? One? Two? When the tears finally let up, and your hold on him loosened he moved his hand under your chin getting you to meet his gaze. You looked better. Still hurt and not at all like yourself, but better.   
“Let’s get you something to eat okay?” You give him a nod, still not ready to trust your voice just yet. He lifted the sheets off of himself, and as he got up made held out his hand for yours. He could see the smallest flash of anxiety and uncertainty flash across your face before you finally took hold of his hand and let him guide you to the kitchen. He lifted you up onto the counter, your legs hitting the cabinets below as they dangled. He looked in his fridge and didn't see much. He hadn't gone grocery shopping in a while with all the chaos of the bar and he wanted to kick himself. He was being the opposite of the loving caring boyfriend he should be. He leaves you alone after a heavy scene, to let you drop, and then doesn't even keep enough food in the house to keep you fed. He wasn’t taking care of you and the sudden realization hit him harder than anything. The one thing he’d promised you, and he’d broken it. Before you even started all of this, before he even told you he’d loved you out loud, he promised to take care of you. And he’d failed.   
He did find enough for grilled cheeses and whipped some up as quick as he could. He placed both of them onto one plate. With one arm around your waist, he lifted you from the counter and sat you at one of the stools in front of the tiny kitchen bar, balancing the grilled cheeses in the other hand. He placed the sandwiches in front of you and you just stared at them, not having much of an appetite.   
“Honey, I need you to eat something for me, okay?” His voice is soft, but there’s still a hint of that dominant tone reserved just for you. You look up at him apprehensively and begin making a slow move toward the grilled cheese ripping a corner of the crust before nibbling on it.   
“Thank you,” you whisper, eyes cast down at your sandwich. He grabs one of the halves himself and takes a rather large bite. Partially because he hadn’t had anything to eat all day either, but mainly in the hopes that maybe it would prompt you to do the same.   
“Can I have something to drink, please?” It came out almost as a whisper and had Chris not been analyzing every move you made since he walked through the door he would have missed it. But his eyes grew at the first sound of your voice in almost an hour.   
“Of course.” He sprung up from his seat next to you, getting you a soda out of the fridge, cracking it open for you. Probably not the best thing for you at the moment, but it was your favorite and Chris hoped the gesture would cheer you up a little.   
“Thank you.”   
He reclaimed the seat next to you, moving the hair covering the side of your face over your shoulder. Playing with the baby hairs at the base of your neck before rubbing circles on your back. The other hand hesitantly resting on your thigh. You finished your sandwich and took a look up at Chris.   
“Can we go lay down now?” you were asking for permission for everything and he had no idea why. He should be taking the lead on this. You shouldn’t have to ask for things you wanted or needed. He was supposed to instinctively know what to do to help you, right?  
He led you back to his bed, tucking you under the covers placing a soft kiss on your forehead.   
“Do you need me?” The words stung coming out and felt wrong. The thought of you not needing him, or wanting him to help you. He couldn’t bear it. None of this should be happening, but after seeing you physically jerk away from him when he first got back, he didn’t want to cause you any more distress. He was lost, completely out of his depth. All he knew was that he wanted you to be okay. He needs for you to be, or else what was the point of him even being there.   
You didn’t respond right away, instead just studying his face. After a while you nodded your head quickly, feeling another bout of tears coming on.   
“Yeah?” He wanted to make sure he’d interpreted it correctly, but you reached out for him and it reassured him.   
He pulled the covers back, sliding in next to you, as you pressed yourself closer to him. He took a look at the clock and was surprised to see that it was already well into the evening, still, he figured maybe a nap would do you both some good. 

* * *

When the sun came beaming through the cracks of Chris’s blinds the following morning, it was as if the previous day never happened, or at the least was just a very bad dream. You woke up with your cheek warm against Chris's chest and the soreness of your body a bit less intense. You remembered what happened, but it’s fuzzy and you like it better that way. The parts you do remember only hurt. You remember seeing the pain behind Chris's eyes every time he looked at you, and the hesitation in his voice every time he spoke. You’d never seen Chris like that, he was always so sure and confident with you. He took pride and being your protector and especially when it came to you and BDSM. He was always there to talk you through it, but something yesterday somehow was different.  
It was to no fault of anyone, that’s the confusing part. You played, it may have been a little more intense than usual but nothing extreme. You added a few new things, some name-calling, and a different kind of spanking. It was a new paddle that Chris had bought. He said it was your congratulations gift for getting into grad school. You’d both been excited to try it out. You’d been doing impact play for a while now, and already had a paddle, but the sting of it was much less than the new one. Still, after the scene, he went and grabbed a towel to clean the two of you up, got you to nibble on a granola bar, and take some sips of water. You went about your usual aftercare routine and headed to bed, and everything had been fine. You were still a little hazy, but you were okay.   
When you woke up yesterday morning though it was different. And you didn’t know why, but the feeling of your sore bottom and Chris's side of the bed being empty, you snapped. At the time it scared you. You didn’t know what was happening and even now, sitting up in bed next to a softly snoring Chris you were scared. Not in the same way you had been the day before, but because you still couldn’t put a name to what happened. You were a little embarrassed, too but more than anything you just wanted to know what the hell all that was. You couldn't remember Chris talking about it with you, and you still weren’t comfortable perusing BDSM websites on your own so you were completely in the dark and depending on Chris for all things kink.  
You glance over at Chris one more time, his face still holding the tiniest bit of worry. You bent down, giving him a kiss on the forehead, careful not to wake him, and made your way into the kitchen. You see a plate on the counter, a few pieces of crust from grilled cheese sandwiches still remain. You briefly remembers Chris dragging you out of bed to eat something, and your stomach churns. You quickly take the plate off the counter tossing it in the sink, quick to get rid of the thought.  
There’s not much in the fridge for a proper breakfast but you find a few eggs settle on those. You fry one up for Chris plating it with a piece of toast and goes to work on your own scrambled eggs. After a few minutes of waiting for him to wake at the smell of breakfast, you decide to bring the food to him. He was still asleep when you placed the food on the small table next to the bed. He had rolled over since you left but still looked fast asleep.   
“Chris? Babe, I made breakfast.” You say stroking his hair trying to get him to open his eyes, and after a few moments, he did. His eyes didn’t look as hurt as you remembered last night, but they weren’t the sparking honey color you’re used to either. “Hi,” you say giving him a warm smile, and you’re grateful to get one in return. “I got you a fried egg and toast. It’s all I could find in there.” you nodded toward the water next to the plate “There's no juice in there, and a Corona isn’t the best thing at ten in the morning, so.” you joke, trying again for a smile, but you didn’t get one.   
“I should be doin’ that.” He said as he lifted himself up on one elbow. His voice horse from sleep, and if you didn’t know any better like he’d been crying too.   
“Doing what?” your hand hadn’t stopped stroking his hair. You don’t know why but you feel like you needed to take care of him after last night. The last two nights had been so emotionally charged, and all about you. You just wanted to make sure he was okay, after all of it.   
“Doing up breakfast. Taking care of you.” He let out a yawn, rubbing at his eyes. He looked exhausted.   
“No, you don’t. I’m okay Chris, it’s not that big of a deal.” He looked up at you, studying your face. You looked like yourself again, a little sheepish about his comments, and probably the events over the last few days. But you were yourself again.   
“Here. It’s going to get cold.” You hand him over the small plate and watch him eat. Neither of you says anything, and all you could do is shift nervously on the bed.   
“I’m sorry about -”  
“No.” He finishes his bite and places the plate on the small table. He sits up, leaning against the headboard reaching for both of your hands to pulling you further up the bed closer to him. There’s an intensity in his eyes that you haven’t seen in a while. “I don’t want to hear you say those words again, you hear me. Especially when it's something completely out of your control. When it’s something that’s my responsibility. I don’t want you to feel like you need to apologize, okay?”  
He never wanted to hear those words coming from you again. Not when in the context of your sex life. He’s heard it far too many times and after last night he never wants to hear them again. You should never feel as though you needed to apologize to Chris. He’s not sure what he did to make you think you would ever need to, but he’s going to make sure he fixes it.   
“Okay.” you look down at your hands intertwined and think long and hard about what you want to say next.   
“What happened yesterday Chris?” you don’t meet his eyes when you ask, and your voice isn’t as sweet as it should be. You know that he knows the answer. He had to, he knew what to do to fix you last night even if he didn’t think he was doing any help at all. Chris was the expert in all of this. He had to know. Whether he withheld the information or not, you didn’t care at the moment. You just wanted to know you weren’t crazy. That whatever that was yesterday, was normal and had a name just like everything else that you do.   
He can’t meet your eyes. He’s ashamed and angry with himself that he even put you in a situation where you’d even have to ask. But still, he cleared his throat and did his best to keep it from cracking as he spoke.  
“It’s - it’s called subdrop. It’s basically the polar opposite of subspace. Instead of feeling, hazy and happy - it makes you feel incredibly shitty. It’s different for everyone, and not everyone experiences it. But some people it happens every time, they're just able to bring themselves out of it. It’s not something anyone wants to experience obviously, but some people can come out of it quicker than others.” With every word he spoke, you were only more confused. You’ve experienced the fun part of it, you’ve gone ‘hazy’ plenty of times with Chris, sometimes when you weren’t even officially playing. And not one of those times had you felt what you felt yesterday afterward. It just didn’t make any sense.   
“How - why does it happen?”   
“The scientific explanation is just that all the chemicals in your brain that are there when we play that make you happy just sort of crash when everything stops. And some people get really depressed, and feel guilty or ashamed. Or abandoned. That’s why after we play I take care of you, and I have you get a nibble on something and give you a bottle of water. It’s to keep that from happening.” He tried to explain it the best he could without some of the BDSM verbiages he’d read on some sites.   
“But we did that. You - we always do that.” You couldn’t understand why the other night was different. You did the same thing you’d always done. The two of you had developed a routine that worked for you, and has been working for you for so long, it didn’t make sense that it would just suddenly stop.   
“I know. But, sometimes it just happens. Depending on what the scene is or the length of it - there are so many factors. But sometimes it takes a while for it to hit. You could have all the aftercare in the world, and six hours later, you feel…” He didn’t want to finish. The images of you jerking away from his touch and calling yourself disgusting too fresh in his mind.   
He’s still barely made eye contact with you while he’s talked his way through it. You reach over, running your fingers through the hairs at the nape of his neck, hoping it gets him to look up at you. It’s a strange feeling, seeing Chris so vulnerable.   
“Why didn’t you tell me before?” you whisper softly. You’re not angry with him, your happy to finally have an answer for everything that you were feeling yesterday, but what you didn’t understand was why he withheld this from you. He was so open about everything else when it came to this part of your life.   
“I didn’t think it could ever happen. I thought I knew how to take care of you, and thought I could never - that’d it never happen to you because I knew what I was doing. But I don’t. I’ve done this before but not with you babe. And not like this. I love you so much and I never wanted you to feel like that. I didn’t mean to. I swear, I know I fucked up and I hurt you but I didn’t mean to.” He didn’t notice he started crying halfway through until you hand your arms wrapped around his neck in a tight hug, rubbing circles on his back to calm him down.   
“Shhh, it’s okay. I know,” you whisper pressing a few kisses to the side of his head. You never expected this reaction. Every other talk through you’d had about this was always rather scholastic. You’d ask questions and he’d answer them in a way that was never off-putting, always terrified of scaring you off. But this was different and all you could do was comfort him like he’d done for you last night.   
“You're telling me now. I know you love me and I know you didn’t mean to.” You pull away from him, grabbing both sides of his face forcing him to look at you.“These things happen right, you said sometimes it just happens. It’s not your fault. I’m okay.” You tried your best to reassure him. The words weren’t empty. You really were okay, you felt more like yourself, and while you were scared about what happened, having an explanation quelled any worries you had left. You understood where Chris was coming from, but that didn’t make it easy, and it certainly didn’t mean he’d earned the right to beat himself up over it.   
He looked at you for a moment, trying to find anger or hate in your eyes but he finds nothing. You were okay. How could you be okay? After what he did how could you not resent him?   
“ I hurt you, I fucked up. Why don’t you care?”   
“Because you didn’t mean to. What happened was out of both of our control. We’re doing this together, right? It’s not always going to be perfect. But I trust you and I love you and even when things go bad it’ll be okay. Yeah?” He gave you a nod, and you prepared a few kisses across his face.   
You've made yourself comfortable on the bed and he laid his hand on your chest taking deep breaths to calm down. You playing with his hair helped too. It always helped. After about ten minutes of neither of you speaking and you playing with Chris’s hair he lifted up his head and spoke.   
“I really am sorry honey. For the other night, and for, my little meltdown.”   
You shook your head placing another small peck to the furrow of his brows.   
“It’s okay. Chris. You don’t have to be strong all the time. You're allowed to hurt and breakdown too. This goes both ways remember.” you say giving him a reassuring smile and receive the tiniest one back.   
“We’re okay though?” he asks shyly   
“We’re perfect.” you smile, placing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.   
You both get up and take a shower, to wash away all the heaviness of the last few days. When Chris’s dressed in a new pair of sweats, he lays out the same takeaway menus you’ve always chosen from even in the earliest stages of your relationship on the coffee table. As you get ready he starts up Netflix waiting for the title screen to load. When you finally emerge from the bathroom you’re in nothing but one of Chris’s t-shirts. He can't help the fond smile spread across his lips. It was your favorite of his, and the only one you would wear when you first started spending the night at his place. It's been a while since he’d seen you in any of his clothes and made his heart skip a few beats. He couldn’t stop staring.  
“What?”   
“Nothing. Just- I love you.”   
You walked your way over to him on the couch, wrapping your arm around his waist snuggling as close to him as you could.   
“I love you too.” 


End file.
